L.B. Graham — author of the series "The Binding Of The Blade"

He’s alive. As crazy as it sounds, it’s true. I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but I’ve seen the tomb with my own eyes. More than that, though, I’ve seen Him.

It started this morning when the women came hurrying back to us, full of crazy babblings about the stone being rolled away and the tomb being empty. They said they’d seen angels, and we thought that perhaps the strain of the past few days had been too much for them. But, John grew excited and said he was going to go see, so I went too, afraid of what I’d find. Afraid the tomb would be intact and the body there. Afraid that it wouldn’t be, and that perhaps angels might appear to us as to them, appear to tell me what I already knew, that I had no business with Him anymore, for I had disowned Him.

We ran, but I couldn’t keep up with John. My fear perhaps heavy enough that it held me back, just a little. But when we got there and found the stone indeed rolled aside, John hesitated at the entrance, staring at the empty space. I did not hesitate, hope rising despite my fear, and I pushed on inside. The linen was there, but Jesus wasn’t. The tomb was truly empty, just as the women had said.

We went back to the others, full of wonder, but unsure of what all this meant. No angels appeared to us, and I kept to myself on the way back, knowing why – or so I thought. I had disgraced myself, and rather than being rebuked by the angels that had spoken to the women as I had feared I would be, I was apparently to be ignored completely.

But, marvel of marvels, my fears and my doubts turned out to be completely unfounded. That night, Jesus appeared to us all, except Thomas, who was away. He appeared in our midst, and He spoke peace unto us and greeted us warmly, showing us His wounds so we would not doubt but believe. When it came to me, He didn’t hesitate or falter, but He greeted me as He did the others. I could see in His eyes the same love as before.

I should have known He wouldn’t forsake me, and this doubt rebukes me almost as much as my threefold denial does. I should have known that His love would not waver, that His grace was greater than my shame, His mercy greater than my sin. I know now, and I will not forget. I will spend my days making sure no one else does either. I will tell His story as clearly as I can, as often as I can, for He was dead, but now He’s alive.

And me? I was lost, but now I’m found, and in the end, that’s all that really matters.